Comatose
by wingedflower
Summary: Lance is in a coma after hurting his head in a rescue mission. As his friends take shifts watching him at the infirmary, waiting for him to wake up, they have some time to think about their relationships with him, and what he really means to them. (takes place around season 2)


Pidge rubbed her eyes, trying to ignore the headache that started to build up behind them. She shifted in her chair – she hadn't changed position in more than an hour and her back and neck were practically screaming at her to stretch – and scrolled through her laptop screen one more time, even though it stopped bringing new results a while ago.

She closed the laptop with a thump and groaned in frustration.

She glanced at the bed next to her chair, wondering ifthe noise she just made would finally stir its occupant awake.

But Lance remained as still as a rock.

Just like he had been since he was out of the pod.

Pidge bit her lip.

She'd never felt more useless in her life, not even when her father and brother went missing.

It all happened two days ago, on their last mission. The Galra had been preparing to bomb the capital of the planet the paladins had come to liberate, where most of the neighborhoods were already under the rebels' control. Apparently the Galra have given up the possibility of re-taking the capital once Voltron arrived, deciding instead to wipe out the place along with all of the civilians who hadn't fled yet.

In the chaos of trying to hold off the Galra ships and evacuating all the citizens to safety, they'd barely noticed the woman who was standing in front of a half-destroyed building – it had already suffered several shellings and was about to collapse at any moment – sobbing and screaming that her daughter was still inside, and trying desperately to shake off the people who had been holding her back and begging her to come with them, to leave before it was too late.

It had been Lance who eventually heard her pleas as he led another group of citizens down the street. He had run into the building without thinking twice, ignoring the screams of his teammates in the comms.

Another bomb had hit the nearby street just as Lance was coming out of the building with the child tucked in his arms, shocked and terrified and crying for her mother but unhurt otherwise.

The shockwave had been enough to send a large block falling off the first floor of the building, right on Lance's helmet as he passed under it.

He had collapsed to the floor, child slipping from his grip and helmet nearly broken in half.

Hadn't he been wearing that helmet, Coran had said later in a wavering voice, he would have been killed on the spot.

Pidge still tasted bile every time she thought about it.

The next few vargas were a blur in her memory. The battle had been long and hard, and they'd barely managed to get Lance out of there in time (the child was alright, thank God) before the entire street had turned into dust. But in the end, they'd won; they'd managed to defeat the Galra fleet and kick them out of the planet's atmosphere. Large areas of the capital were in ruins, but with minimum casualties on behalf of the citizens, and Allura had already contacted Olkarion to send a team to help the lions with the reconstruction efforts.

A victory like that would usually call for a celebration – not necessarily a feast considering there were more urgent issues on the agenda, like cleaning up the ruins and making sure there were no civilians trapped anywhere – but at least a modest ceremony, a toast, a chance for the planet's people to express their gratitude to the heroes who have given them back their freedom.

But none of them was in the mood to celebrate.

Because Lance hasn't woken up yet from his coma.

He'd been in a pod for a whole quintant before Coran announced the crack in his skull has healed, and he suffered no other injuries that justified keeping him in cryofreeze any longer. In terms of physical wounds, Lance was completely healthy.

His brain scans, however, showed all the signs of a comatose state, caused by the severe trauma his head had experienced from being crushed by a concrete block. Coran had explained solemnly that while the pod had no problem stopping the bleeding and closing the wound – it would barely even scar – treating the other effects of this kind of injury, such as possible brain damage, was beyond the abilities of this technology.

Which meant they had absolutely no way to know when Lance would wake up.

They had no way to know _if _he would wake up at all.

All they could do was wait. Keep him in a bed at the infirmary, hooked to an IV and a heart monitor, and take shifts watching him (there was still much work to do on the planet until the arrival of the Olkari expedition, so they'd agreed one person would watch Lance for four vargas every time while the others helped the citizens and patrolled the sky to make sure the Galra didn't decide to pay another visit), constantly searching his face and body for the slightest sign of life – a flutter of eyelids, a twitch of a finger, anything that would indicate there was still some spirit left in this abnormally still, lifeless body.

So far no part of him has moved save for the deep rise and fall of his chest.

No sound has been heard save for the slow, steady beep of the heart monitor.

And for all they knew, it could be like that forever.

Well, not on Pidge's watch.

The Green Paladin was not going to spend her time at the infirmary simply staring at Lance or holding his hand. That would do nothing to improve his state.

Instead she had spent the last three vargas searching for information about head injuries in every possible database she could put her hands on. Coran had helped her uploading the entire castle's library into her computer long ago, but as she'd already learned, Altean medicine did not have the answer to Lance's problem. But there were other civilizations in this universe; other sources of knowledge and technologies she couldn't even imagine. The answer had to be out there, somewhere.

And when it came to acquiring knowledge, Pidge was _really_ bad at giving up.

Her search had been fruitless so far though. There was very little information about human biology in the databases she'd downloaded, and there wasn't even one mention of head injuries or ways to wake up someone from a coma.

Pidge drummed with her fingers on the laptop lid, sneaking another look at Lance as she had nothing better to look at. Frankly, she was thankful for the distraction her medical research provided; it helped keep her mind off how _wrong _the Blue Paladin looked in this bed.

He didn't look like he was in pain at all. His face was still and slack, eyes shut and unmoving and brow smooth, and his breaths were deep and steady, albeit slow. He looked like he was sleeping peacefully – and that was the most disturbing part.

Because even people who were sleeping peacefully were ought to wake up at some point. They were not meant to stay like this forever.

He looked so… _different _from the Lance she knew. The one who had trouble sitting more than two minutes in one place, always fidgeting and rocking his legs or stretching his arms in all directions. The one who never, but _never _shut up, with his loud complaints about everything and his bad jokes and his shrieking laughter at these bad jokes, and even in his sleep he'd grunt and mumble incoherent half-sentences, mostly about his siblings back at home.

It used to drive Pidge insane, especially when he was babbling while she was busy with one of her projects.

She usually yelled at him to shut up and leave her alone. She almost always regretted it later, but Lance never seemed to hold a grudge, so she never bothered to apologize – a fact that made her cheeks flush with shame now, as she remembered it.

Pidge shook her head feverishly and opened her laptop again. She had no time for self-pity. She had work to do.

She was so focused on her search she didn't even hear the infirmary's doors slide open.

She noticed the Red Paladin's presence only when he stood right behind her and said, "Hey, Pidge."

Pidge jumped as if she was electrocuted, nearly dropping her laptop. "Dude, what the _hell?!_" she screamed and pressed her palm to her chest, where she could feel hear heart pound as if she'd just finished running a marathon. "What is your _problem?!_"

Keith shrugged. "I was just saying hi."

"Well you usually say hi to people's faces, not by sneaking behind their backs!" Pidge flared, still panting and holding her chest. "Is this what they taught you at that Marmora base? Because that is some fucked-up shit, man."

"Um, sorry?" Keith still looked pretty unmoved by having nearly given Pidge a heart attack, and she suddenly found herself resisting the urge to slap her own forehead.

"Ugh, nevermind." She drooped back in the chair. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I came to relieve you," Keith said. "I'm supposed to take the shift after you, remember?"

"Oh." She completely forgot. "Right. But, honestly, I don't mind staying a little longer." She couldn't leave yet, not before she found something useful.

Keith frowned. "It's been nearly four vargas," he said. "You must be tired. You look tired," he leaned forward to examine her face and she jumped again at the sudden proximity.

She snorted. "What, from sitting here and doing nothing?" However, her smirk froze as she saw Keith's face fall at her joke.

"So… still no change?" he asked quietly, gaze wandering to the bed.

Pidge sighed, cursing herself. "No. He… he's the same."

A heavy silence hung between them for a moment. Then Keith said, "Okay. But I still think you should – hey, what's that?" he frowned again as his eyes locked on her laptop screen.

"What – " Pidge turned away and saw, to her dismay, that she left the tab with the human brain's diagram open. "Ah, nothing!" she exclaimed and closed the screen, her ears burning. "Just – my usual stuff, y'know, coding, data, blah-blah-blah, all this boring stuff."

She could see on Keith's face he wasn't buying any of this. Well, at least she tried.

"Are you trying to find a way to wake up Lance?" he asked, blunt as always.

Pidge's grip on her computer tightened. "And if I am, then what?" she asked defiantly. "He's been like that for three days and no one here seems to know how to help him, so I might as well try."

She expected Keith to yell at her for hiding it from them. However, he only sighed and sank on the edge of Lance's bed. "Pidge, you don't have to do this."

Pidge scowled. "But I want to. Just what exactly is so wrong about wanting to help Lance?"

"There's nothing wrong about that," Keith said. "It's just… you don't have to do it like that – all by yourself. We have enough work on the planet as it is and I'm sure Lance wouldn't want to see any of us collapse from exhaustion. And don't try to tell me you're fine," he said sharply is as Pidge opened her mouth to argue. "As someone who trains in the middle of the night more often than not, I recognize overexertion when I see it. You look like you haven't slept in ages."

"I haven't slept because I'm _worried!_" Pidge burst out, hating Keith for sounding so rational (and for being right; she _did_ spend last night locked in her lab and searching for ways to wake a patient from a coma, even though her shift was only in the morning, which was probably the reason for her current headache). "Because my friend is in a _coma _and I'm freaking out! And the only way I can stop freaking out is by making myself useful, so _stay out of my business!_"

"What are talking about?" Keith asked, surprisingly calm (she assumed he'd threaten her with his knife by now). "Pidge, you're the smartest person on this ship. The things you do with Hunk… most of the time I don't understand any of it, but I know it's always good for the team. You've _always_ been useful."

"Oh, give me a break," Pidge said bitterly. "If I really was useful, I would've found my family by now."

It took her a moment to realize she said that out loud.

She pursed her lips and looked away from Keith, her face getting terribly warm.

After a long minute of silence, Keith said softly, "Pidge."

"Don't," she snapped. She thought of telling him to forget about it, but she knew he was stubborn just as he was blunt and he would never let it go. "Look… I already lost part of my family, okay? I don't want to lose anyone else." She clenched her hands into fists, trying to stop the sudden trembling. "That's why I need to keep looking until I find the answer. I need to _know._" She was the Green Paladin, after all; not knowing stuff was the thing she hated most – especially when it was knowledge necessary to saving her family.

Because that's who Lance was. Family. They all were – the three other paladins and Allura and Coran. They have been through way too much together to not become one.

But Lance…

Out of everyone, Lance was the one who reminded her most of her real brother.

He might not have been a brilliant programmer like Matt, but they both shared the same goofy sense of humor and awful flirting skills, and most importantly – the same kind heart, that had always sent them protecting others without caring whether they'd get hurt in the process or not.

Lance had always been there for her; even during their Garrison days, when she was nothing but a lousy friend, he always stood up for her, taking the blame for their failed simulations so Iverson wouldn't yell at her as she had a dangerous habit of talking back to the already-furious commander.

And he kept looking after her even now, when they were all busy fighting an intergalactic war, trying to distract her with his dumb jokes when things became too overwhelming and dragging her from the lab to make sure she ate and slept and didn't go blind from staring at screens all day.

Well, now it was time for her to look after him.

And she would neverforgive herself if she let him down.

A long puff of breath cut her track of thought and she turned back to Keith, who was staring at his feet and running a hand through his hair.

Pidge chuckled dryly. "Sorry, dude. Didn't mean to get all emotional like that. Guess I really am tired."

"No, it's okay," Keith slowly looked back at her. "Listen, I'm… I'm not very good at this stuff," he admitted. "But the truth is, I've never really had a family until I met you guys. When I was little it was just me and my dad, but then he passed away, and after that…" he swallowed and shook his head. "The point is, this whole family thing is pretty new to me. But if there's one thing I've learned from it, is that you don't have to do everything on your own. You don't have to take all the burden. Because, if one of our family is in trouble," he spoke with a bit more confidence now, "We all chip in to help, but… but not at the expense of our own wellbeing."

Wow. Did Keith, the lone wolf of their team, just give her a Shiro-style speech about family and teamwork? She must have been hallucinating from lack of sleep.

"Just when did _you _get all smart and sensitive?" she blurted out.

Keith's cheeks matched his lion's color within a second. "Why does everybody on this ship have to ruin bonding moments?!"

Pidge laughed – probably for the first time since they landed on this planet. "Sorry, sorry. The truth is, I'm not very good at this stuff either."

"Well, that's what makes us a good team," Keith murmured, still looking like a tomato.

"Thanks, though." Pidge nudged his knee with her own. "What you just said… that was really nice of you." And before she could think about it any further, she put her laptop aside and lunged at Keith, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face in his chest.

He instantly stiffened in her grip. "O-kaaay, we're hugging now," he said flatly, but then he put his own hands on her upper back, rubbing it gently as his body slowly relaxed. Pidge turned her head to Lance and thought how he would have teased them if he saw them now – the two most antisocial members of the team sharing a hug – and how Keith would have threatened to impale him if he didn't wipe that idiotic smile off his face. Her eyes burned at the thought and she squeezed them shut, grateful that Keith couldn't see her face right now.

She was pretty sure this was the first hug she'd ever shared with the Red Paladin.

And despite he wasn't exactly returning it (she made a mental note to give him some lessons later, preferably with Hunk's guidance), it felt right. She felt safe and protected, like getting a hug from an older brother.

She smiled to herself.

Perhaps she had more than one big brother here in space.

They stayed like this for a while until Pidge felt a huge yawn making its way up her throat, and stepped back, letting it out as she collected her laptop. "I guess I'll take off then," she said thickly. "Have a nice shift… as much as it can be."

Keith watched her intently. "And you'll get some sleep? And have a proper meal?"

Pidge rolled her eyes. "Yes, _mom._"

"Good." Keith moved to sit on the empty chair. "I'll tell the others."

"Thanks, man."

"And when you get up," he continued, "If you want some help with your research… let me know. I don't know much about this stuff," he shrugged, "but I'll help however I can."

Pidge grinned. "I appreciate that."

As she walked out of the infirmary, her heart was slightly lighter than before despite the heaviness in her head.

-x-

Keith put down his Marmora blade with a sigh. His shift was nearly over and he had probably polished his blade a thousand times by now, as he had nothing better to do.

He peeked at Lance from the corner of his eye.

As still as a corpse.

_Don't use that word, _he reprimanded himself.

He didn't usually have a problem with being alone – after all, he had spent a year living in the desert, with no one to talk to except for the occasional lizard he'd managed to catch when he was out of supplies. He was used to silence. Sometimes he even embraced it. It kept his head clear, helped him to think straight.

But the silence right now, in this room, felt wrong in every possible way.

Mostly because the person who was an expert at breaking silences was unconscious, for who knows how long.

There was some part of Keith that still believed – hoped – that all of this was just another one of Lance's practical jokes. That he wasn't really hurt, wasn't really in a coma. After all, this guy always loved to brag how once he missed an entire week of school because of a stomachache he never had.

The corners of Keith's mouth quirked up despite himself.

"Hey, Lance." He winced at the echo of his voice in the large, empty room. "Come on. I know you're faking it. I gotta admit – you actually made me worry about you. So there, you won. You can stop pretending now."

No reply.

This was so ridiculous.

"Lance," he continued. "If you open your eyes now, I'll let you cut my hair. I'll even let you use my blade." He stared at Lance's face intently, but the boy's eyelashes didn't even flutter.

Keith felt something hot and painful build up inside of him, a lump made of anger and despair that pressed on his chest and made his throat burn.

"Lance," he said again, voice wavering. "Once I'm done here I'm going to have dinner with Allura. Alone. She's asked for me in person."

The slow beep of the heart monitor was his only answer.

Keith groaned and buried his face in his hands. What was he even doing? He felt like an idiot. He felt like he was going mad. And most of all, he felt _tired._

Because he might have just scolded Pidge for not sleeping at night, but the truth was, he himself had barely gotten any sleep since the battle was over.

He was not doing it on purpose.

It was just that every time he closed his eyes, Lance's crushed head floated in front of them.

Keith was the one who had gotten Lance out of that street once they heard he had been hurt. Red was the fastest lion, and her small size allowed her to maneuver easily between the ruined city buildings.

Once Keith dragged Lance into Red's cockpit, he had removed his barely-intact helmet to inspect the damage.

Lance's entire scalp had been a mess of dark red splotches, which stained his short, brown hairs and made them hard and wet to the touch.

Keith had nearly vomited at the sight.

He hadn't remembered flying back to the castle, or Allura running to Red once they were back at the hangar, or how both her and Coran had torn Lance's armor off and shoved him into a pod before Keith could even utter a word.

All he knew was that at some point he had found himself kneeling on the infirmary's floor, eyes wide and chest burning, with Coran rubbing his back and telling him to breathe.

It was over in a few moments. He had to return to the planet and help evacuate the remaining citizens and destroy the Galra fleet. Now that they were down a paladin, his presence was even more crucial. He didn't have time for panic attacks.

But that didn't mean the image of Lance's unconscious, bloodied, almost _dead _body was going to leave his mind any time soon.

Nor was the memory of the last thing Keith had told him, moments before they got the distress signal.

It had been a silly argument, really. They had been training with the invisible maze again, as all the paladins seemed to have gotten significantly better at it except for Lance and Keith, who always ended up arguing instead of completing the mission. Which was why Allura had insisted the two of them worked on their one-to-one communication, which was essential for infiltration missions.

Only that Keith had lost patience barely five minutes into training, when Lance forgot to tell him to turn and made him bump straight into a wall, sending a rather painful electric shock through his body.

_"Are you even looking where I'm going?!" _Keith had screamed and tossed his helmet to the floor, scrunching his nose at the burnt smell of his hair.

_"I _am_ looking!" _Lance had screamed back. _"It's not my fault your mullet is so thick you can't hear what I'm saying!"_

Keith could have literally felt a vein pop at the center of his forehead. _"And you call yourself the team's sharpshooter," _he had hissed, voice toxic. _"You really think you can hit a target from a distance when you can't give the simplest directions to someone who stands right in front of you? Or maybe this is all just a big joke to you?"_

The alarms had blared before Lance could come up with an answer.

But Keith had not missed the pained look in his eyes, the slight tremble to his lip as Keith spat out the word 'sharpshooter' as if it were an insult.

And that might have been the very last thing Keith has ever told the Blue Paladin, who hadn't thought twice before risking his life to save an alien child he didn't even know – and would've probably done the same for the Keith because that was the kind of person Lance was.

He wasn't the greatest fighter – Keith, Shiro and Allura could beat him in a one-on-one combat without even sweating – and at trainings he could be so all over the place it drove Keith insane, but he was also the most selfless person Keith knew.

And he might never get the chance to tell him that.

"I'm sorry." Keith's apology came out small and pathetic in the empty room. His hands fisted on his knees. "I know I can be… rude, sometimes, and you didn't deserve to hear... what I said. I-I know you're trying your best. I know you're not treating it as a joke." _Otherwise you wouldn't be in this bed now._

Keith took a deep breath. "I'm going to try my best, too. To be a better friend. I won't… say stuff like that anymore. Just… just come back to us, okay?"

His voice broke at the last sentence, but it was swollen by the hiss of the infirmary's sliding doors. Keith coughed and ran a hand through his hair, blinking away the sudden itch in his eyes and straightening up in the chair as Hunk came closer, his footsteps heavy on the tiles.

"Hey," the Yellow Paladin said, his gaze instantly fixating on Lance. "Any news?"

The yearning in his voice made Keith's heart clench. "No," he said. "Still the same."

Hunk's shoulders sank slightly. "Well, at least he's not worse, right? Small comforts and all."

"Yeah." Keith remained seated, staring absently at the bed for a while until Hunk cleared his throat.

"Um, Keith? You okay there? You seem kinda lost."

Keith blinked, then shook his head and rose to a stand so abruptly Hunk jumped backwards. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just… thinking, that's all."

"We can talk about it if you want," Hunk offered kindly.

Keith huffed out a chuckle. "No, it's okay. I'm just tired. I think I'm going to catch a quick nap before I go back out there. Thanks, big guy." He patted Hunk's shoulder and turned to leave, but then Hunk put his own large hand on Keith's and squeezed it, holding it in place.

"He's going to wake up, you know," Hunk said, and there was a strange fire in his eyes Keith had only seen once before, when they were on the Balmera. "It's not like there's another option."

Keith had a sudden urge to pull a Pidge and latch onto Hunk's wide chest, but he forced it away, not quite comfortable with such gestures yet. "I hope you're right," he said in a small voice.

"Well, it's just a hunch, but this fellow here has never been wrong before," Hunk patted his belly for emphasis, "So I probably am."

Keith smiled. "I believe you then."

"Good. Now go rest, you look like you really need it. Oh, and take this," Hunk reached for his chest pocket and took out something that looked like a pink-and-blue chocolate chip cookie.  
"I've made these to give to the kids around here, but I still have a couple left at the kitchen."

Keith gingerly took the cookie, hoping for some of Hunk's positivity to stick to him when he ate it. "Thanks. I'll, um, have it when I get up."

He gave Lance one last look before turning away, wordlessly telling him not to give up.

-x-

Hunk had never been good at lying. His stomach would usually start to churn the moment he was about to tell a lie, and he would always break under the pressure before he even managed to finish it.

Which was why he was extremely surprised by how easily he had put up a brave, optimistic face in front of Keith.

Because frankly, he was scared out of his mind.

He was afraid Lance would never wake up, or wake up and not be the same Lance they all knew and loved, the Lance who's been Hunk's best friend since their first week at the Garrison.

Hunk smiled fondly at the memory of how they became friends. Lance had found him locked in a bathroom cell on campus, throwing up his guts because he was totally freaking out about their first exam. He had been so stressed he was ready to pack his bags and get on the first train home, but Lance had talked him out of it, calming his nerves with his wise advices – people had often missed how insightful Lance could be at times – and silly-but-efficient jokes, and since then, they have been inseparable.

That is, until they found the Blue Lion and got ejected into space.

As much as Hunk hated to admit it, he and Lance kind of grew apart since their adventures at space began – and Hunk was certain it was more his fault than Lance's.

Because space… space was full of wonders. Not all of it was fun and games – they were fighting an evil intergalactic empire, after all – but they got to see so many different civilizations and cultures and technologies it completely mesmerized him. And the Castle of Lions, with its ten thousand years of history and science, was a huge playground for every tech or engineering enthusiastic – or, in order words, for Pidge and Hunk. There was so much to learn and so much to do, and that is without even mentioning the castle's kitchen, which has quickly become Hunk's private kingdom where he could experiment with alien ingredients and spices like he never got to do in the small kitchen of his family's restaurant.

And so Hunk found himself dedicating all his waking hours – when they were not fighting or training – to either cooking, or tinkering with his lion's systems, or helping Coran in whatever work he was doing on the main deck because there was always something new to learn there, or sitting in the lab with Pidge trying to program something new. He was drowning in work, and he was enjoying every minute of it.

Only that he forgot to hang out with his best friend in the meantime.

Between all of the many duties he'd taken on himself, he barely got to check on Lance, and some days were so busy he didn't even see him except for meals. Sometimes Lance would hang around the kitchen when Hunk cooked, helping him or (most of the times) just snacking on the ingredients, but they hardly talked about anything important or meaningful during those times. The all-night heart-to-heart conversations they had at the Garrison (bluntly ignoring curfew and more often than not getting punished for it) seemed now like a distant memory.

It wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Hunk was proud of himself for opening up to new people and ideas and not clinging to a single close friend anymore. It was part of growing up.

But he wasn't sure growing up also meant neglecting or hurting your old friends. Not that Lance has ever claimed to be hurt, or blamed Hunk for not hanging out with him anymore; in fact, Hunk was wondering if this guilt trip he was currently laying on himself was all in his head, because Lance was sick and he was worried and that made him just emotional enough to get all kinds of ideas which had no basis whatsoever.

But he did get to run into Lance once or twice just when the latter was leaving a room with suspiciously red eyes, merely shrugging when Hunk asked him what was wrong.

Coran would then emerge out of the room, giving Hunk a fatherly smile and saying "Oh, Number Three and I were just having a little talk, there is absolutely nothing to worry about."

And during the times Lance came to the lab because he was bored and everyone else was busy, Hunk and Pidge have never made a real effort to include him in their projects as he barely understood anything anyway (Lance's words). They either ignored or teased him because of another beautiful alien who's rejected his flirting – Pidge was usually more insensitive, but Hunk had his fair share of sarcastic comments as well – until Lance had enough of their taunting and left, pouting like a toddler, which only made Hunk and Pidge laugh harder.

Hunk's stomach knotted as he recalled these moments.

Perhaps Lance has been going to Coran to vent not only about missing Earth – because Hunk was sure that was what they talked about the most, he's been Lance's friend long enough to know how close he was to his family – but also about being treated as the team's goofball, the one who was the butt of everyone's jokes and nobody seemed to think there was anything wrong with it.

Well, Hunk could only guess.

Because Lance wasn't in a state to answer that question now, and who knew if he ever would.

Hunk wondered if Keith – who has never missed a chance to call Lance a useless idiot – has been thinking the same. Because the guy did _not _look fine when Hunk came to relieve him. He looked like he was going to cry – something Hunk hadn't known Keith was even capable of until today.

Hunk smiled sadly.

They were all such a mess.

Lance _really _needed to wake up already so they could make things right.

Suddenly he heard the doors open and turned his head to see Coran, who was supposed to take the shift after him.

"Good evening, Number Two," the advisor said cheerfully. "I must inform you that since you missed dinnertime, I have left you a tray in the kitchen. You are welcome to stop by there before you return to your duties."

"Aw, thanks, Coran." Hunk silently wished Coran hadn't put there any of his "special paladin treats". "Wow, it's already past dinner? I totally lost track of time."

"I take it that you had a pleasant shift, considering the circumstances?" The corners of Coran's moustache drooped a bit when he came closer to examine the sleeping figure in the bed.

Hunk sighed. "Nah… I was just thinking about stuff." He returned his own gaze to Lance. "Do you have any idea when he might wake up?"

Now it was Coran's turn to sigh. "I am sorry, my boy. As I have already explained, my medical knowledge is limited here. We did all we could, and now we must let time do its job."

"Yeah, you're right. Sorry for asking that again."

"No need to apologize," Coran said warmly. "You are worried about your friend. I understand."

The word 'friend' made Hunk flinch. He took a shaky breath. "Say, Coran…"

"Yes, my boy?" Coran asked while sitting on the opposite side of the bed.

"You and Lance… You used to – _use_ to talk a lot. Alone."

"Yes, that is true," Coran said slowly.

"During your conversations… did Lance ever…?" the question got stuck in Hunk's throat, as he was both eager to know and scared of the answer.

Coran said nothing, waiting for him to continue.

Hunk licked his dry lips, deciding that to hell with it, if he didn't ask he'd go mad. "Did Lance ever talk about me? O-or any of the other paladins?"

Coran frowned. "I am sorry, Number Two, but I prefer not to compromise Number Three's privacy like that, especially when he is in no shape to decide whether to share this information or not."

Hunk sank in his place like a deflated balloon. "Oh. O-okay. You're right. Forget I said anything."

"Why do you ask though?" Coran asked in a softer tone. "You seem awfully concerned, and I would guess it is not just about Lance's health."

Hunk chewed the inside of his cheek. "I feel like I haven't been a very good friend to him lately. I was just wondering if he was upset about it."

Coran hummed and tapped his chin with a finger. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, we hardly spend time together anymore, because I've been so busy with all kinds of stuff, and I know he's having a hard time being so far away from home and it – it – " Hunk's voice broke and he had to blink rapidly to stop the tears, "It _kills_ me to think I wasn't there for him when he needed me."

Coran straightened in his place and released a long breath. "Hunk, I know you are quite agitated due to everything that has happened, but there is no need to be so hard on yourself. Trust me, Lance does not hold any grudge against you."

Hunk stared at the floor, unconvinced. "I still feel bad. We used to be really close." He chuckled wetly. "Back at school, he'd always give me and Pidge pep talks before simulations and bring me tea from the kitchen after I hurled in the gearbox because we sucked so much."

"But you no longer need those things, right? You are a Paladin of Voltron now, and so much stronger than you used to be. I can say with confidence that your fear of flight has long vanished. All of you paladins have learned to overcome your weaknesses and work as a team, as you have already proven in countless opportunities."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I don't need Lance anymore."

"Of course not. But Hunk, my boy," Coran got up and walked past the bed, placing a hand on Hunk's shoulder. "People change. They grow up, they find new interests, new people to connect with. Your lives have been turned upside down since you came to this castle. There is no reason to torture yourself for only doing your best to adapt.

"And Hunk," Coran paused for a moment. "Although I am not going to disclose the contents of Lance's and my conversations, I will tell you that Lance loves you very much. He sees how smart and kind you are, and it makes him want to be more like you."

Hunk's heart both swelled and ached at Coran's words. "R-really? Because I always felt it was the other way around."

"Well, then why don't you tell him that when he wakes up?" Coran was grinning now. "I am sure he will be happy to hear it."

"I will." Hunk stood up now as well. "Thanks, Coran. Wow, talking to you really does help," he smirked. "I think I'm going to do it more often."

"My door is always open. Now, off with you to the kitchen. I don't want to see a single crumble when I get there."

Hunk's stomach chose this exact moment to give a loud growl. "Um, yeah, I don't think you will." He approached the bed and took Lance's limp hand in his, squeezing it gently. "Come back to us soon, buddy. I'll be here when you wake up." _And also after that, for as long as you want me to stay._

-x-

Coran didn't have children of his own. He had spent most of his adult life acting as an advisor at the Altean palace, completely dedicating himself to serve the king and queen, and then the war came and destroyed everything and he missed the chance to start a family.

Princess Allura was all that was left for him, and while he'd sworn Kind Alfor he'd look after her as if she was his own daughter – and in many ways, she was – he'd also promised to himself not to get too attached to the five human paladins that boarded their castle one day, ten thousand years later. They were fighting a war and anything could happen anytime, and he had seen enough death to know his heart wouldn't stand another loss. Sure, he would train them and provide them with all the amenities the Castle of Lions had to offer because that was his duty as an advisor, but he wouldn't allow himself to get too involved with their personal lives.

Needless to say, he had broken that promise just several days after the humans arrived at the castle.

All thanks to the Blue Paladin.

Because Coran might have tried to keep it professional, but he wasn't made out of stone, so when he saw Lance dragging his feet to the observatory, eyes moist and shoulders trembling, he couldn't just act as if he hadn't seen anything.

The boy had opened his heart to him right away, telling him about Earth (Coran still found that "rain" phenomena absolutely intriguing) and how his soul ached from missing it, and his words had echoed Coran's own ache at the loss of his precious Altea, and that was about the moment he'd realized there was no way for him to stay emotionally detached from all of this.

And then Lance had pushed him out of the way of a deadly explosion, almost getting himself killed.

As much as Coran hated to pick favorites out of the paladins, from that day on he had a special place in his heart for the blue one.

He truly enjoyed guiding all the paladins and watching them grow and become better people. He enjoyed even more watching his Allura – who only yesterday was a baby in his arms, pulling his moustache with such force in her tiny fingers she almost tore it off – become the leader she was always meant to be. All of them were like children to him by now, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

But none of them shared quite the same connection he had with Lance.

Maybe it was because Lance turned out to be the friendliest, most open person of their little group, never missing a chance to have a heart-to-heart talk with Coran even if he was just helping him clean the cryopods. They'd usually talk about their home planets, but there were certain days – after a particularly tough mission or training – when Lance would come to Coran with his eyes cast down in defeat, and reveal to him some of his insecurities. There were so many of them, Coran wondered how Lance had managed to hide them behind his cocky, carefree façade for so long.

Not smart enough.

Not strong enough.

Not brave enough.

Not good enough, ever, for anything.

It broke Coran's heart to know the Blue Paladin thought so little of himself. Everyone had their moments of weakness – he would be lying if he said he'd never seen Allura come close to tears after her diplomatic efforts had fallen on deaf ears – but Lance's self-doubts seemed to run deeper than that, as if they came from a very old wound in his soul, that refused to heal and kept bleeding out until it drained the boy of every bit of confidence he had.

Coran would try to tell Lance that wisdom was not measured by technical knowledge; that bravery and strength were not measured by how many enemies you managed to hit (and seriously, Lance had _jumped in front of a bomb to protect a man he'd barely known_; if this did not count as an act of bravery, Coran would have the mice shave his moustache). Sometimes his words would get through; sometimes Lance would only nod without really looking at him, and shortly after drag his feet to his room claiming he was tired and needed to sleep.

But he would never, ever speak ill of his teammates.

He'd occasionally rant about Number Four – the two of them were truly like fire and ice, and not just because of their respective lions – but he'd never actually claim to be a better fighter than him, nor would he think of himself higher than any of the other paladins. To Lance, all of them were better than him, deserved more credit than him. It was just like Coran had just told Hunk – Lance _adored _his friends. He wanted to be like them, because being himself was never enough.

Coran sighed and looked at the sleeping boy with sorrow.

Will he ever get the chance to tell him that being himself was exactly the reason they all loved him so much?

That without him around, Voltron would fall apart?

Coran noticed at some point that Lance's IV bag was empty. With a heavy heart he got up and went to fetch another one from the medical equipment closet, his movements nearly automatic as he changed the bag. He checked the monitor, making sure everything looked normal, even though he had programmed his personal tablet to alert him about any change. But he still felt obliged to do so. After all, it was all he _could_ do for Lance in the meantime.

Coran crumpled the empty bag in his fist.

Lance may have felt like a constant disappointment to the team, but in the end he was the one who kept risking his life to save other people, while Coran had no way to help him other than put him in a pod and pray for a miracle.

He had to admit, that was pretty lame for a royal advisor.

The thought was like an icy knife to his heart. Back in Altea, he had contemplated acquiring formal medical education – he had no doubts King Alfor would happily allow it – in hopes of being granted the title of a healer, not only an advisor. The idea first came to his mind after Queen Melenor succumbed to a sudden, deadly disease, shortly before the Galran invasion. The anguish her death had brought upon both Alfor and Allura – still way too young to lose her mother in such tragic circumstances – had led Coran to decide he'd do whatever he can to avoid another death like this, so the people he held dearest would never have to shed tears on their loved ones ever again.

Well, apparently the universe had other plans, as Altea was thrown into war before they even finished mourning Queen Melenor, and Coran himself was sent to a ten-thousand-year sleep along with the last hope of bringing peace someday.

His knowledge about operating the cryopods and the rest of the medical equipment was usually enough to treat the variety of ailments and injuries humans were prone to. However, Lance's current condition was a painful reminder that this wasn't always enough.

The heartbroken expressions on the paladins' faces when he had told them there was no way to no when or even if Lance would wake up were something Coran knew would haunt his dreams for a long, long time.

"Oh, Alfor," he sighed. "Is this what being a father feels like? Is it supposed to be that hard?"

"Coran? Who are you talking to?"

Coran's soul was nearly blown straight to Wozblay at the sudden other voice in the room. He stumbled, almost knocking down the IV pole in his way, but managed at the last tick to lean on the chair and stay upright.

"_Coran!_" Shiro rushed to him, face white with concern. "Are you alright?!"

"Yes, Number One, I am perfectly peachy," Coran wheezed, still grabbing the chair as if his life depended on it. Altean Gods, he was _not _getting younger. "You – you simply surprised me, that is all!"

"Oh God, I'm so sorry," Shiro said. "I just heard you talking, so I thought…" his lips pursed as he turned to look at the bed, the hope in his eyes fading so quickly it made Coran's heart break once more.

Coran released a long breath before straightening up, finally getting his breath in order. "I was just thinking out loud," he said, trying to keep his tone light. "It happens to all of us."

"Yeah." Shiro's gaze lingered on Lance several more ticks before he shook his head and ran a hand through his white tuft of hair. "Anyway, I came to replace you. It's been four vargas."

"It has? I did not notice at all." Coran took out his tablet and saw the Black Paladin was right. "I hope you have wrapped up things out there – it is past bedtime already."

"We're finished for today. All the refugees are fed and safe. They'll let us know if anything happens through the night."

"I am very pleased to hear that." Coran took a closer look at Shiro's face. He looked absolutely exhausted, with a wrinkle between his eyes that made him look older than his twenty-five Earth years, which was still far too young to carry all this weight on his shoulders – literally, as the Head of Voltron – despite being much older and more experienced than the other paladins.

"I hope you are rested enough to take this shift," Coran said carefully, not wanting to hurt the young man's pride. "After all, you are going to be here until the wee hours of morning."

Shiro smiled. "Don't worry, I can handle it. I always stay up late anyway."

Coran wasn't surprised by this statement, though it didn't make his heart ache any less. "Well, feel free to get up four vargas later tomorrow," he said. "Allura and I can handle things in the morning. A leader must keep his strength."

Shiro chuckled. "Of course. Thanks for taking care of us, Coran."

"I'm afraid I am not doing enough." Coran did not mean to voice it out loud. Perhaps it had something to do with his own exhaustion, that had started to creep into his elderly bones not too long ago. It sure has been a long quintant for everyone.

Shiro put his human hand on the advisor's shoulder. "You're doing everything you can. In Earth – " he swallowed, throat bobbing – "in Earth we also don't always have all the answers when we treat people. Sometimes… sometimes you just have to give them time to heal."

Coran smiled back at Shiro. "That was a very kind and wise thing to say, Number One. The paladins are lucky to have you as their… Space Dad, I believe this is how they call you?"

Shiro let out an amused sigh. "I can't really avoid that nickname, can I?"

"It suits you perfectly."

"Well, you're our Space Uncle, in case you didn't know it."

Coran laughed. "Out little space family is quite peculiar, isn't it?"

"It is."

There was a moment of comfortable silence between them, and then Coran said, "Well, I shall do one last round to make sure all the systems and shields are up and running before I go to bed. Have a pleasant shift, Shiro."

"Good night, Coran."

When Coran went out to do his round, his mind was at ease, because he knew he could trust Shiro to look after his fellow paladin.

-x-

Shiro hadn't had a full-night sleep since the day he came to the castle.

It wasn't like he didn't sleep _at all._ He slept… in intervals. It would usually take him an hour or two to fall asleep, during which he'd occasionally get up and do some push-ups or grab a glass of water from the kitchen, because tossing and turning in bed wasn't helping and only made him more jittery. And after he finally fell asleep, he'd wake up again – mostly from a nightmare he couldn't remember after opening his eyes – and go for another round in the castle's hallways, and so on until morning.

Which was why staying at the infirmary at night felt both natural and awkward. Natural, because Shiro was used to be awake so late; and awkward, because he wasn't used to spend these hours sitting in one place, even after standing and running on his feet all day. After a few minutes in the chair near Lance's bed his knee started to bounce on its own, and he quickly gave up sitting and started to do stretches, eyes fixated on Lance as he bent his human elbow above his head, pushing it backwards with his Galra hand.

The Blue Paladin sure loved to sleep. He overslept more often than not, and was late for so many of their morning gatherings that Shiro wondered how he hadn't been expelled from the Garrison with such poor discipline.

He kind of wished all of this was just one of Lance's particularly long oversleeps.

He missed the boy, honestly. He and Lance weren't very close – the last time Shiro got to spend some one-on-one time with him, Lance was unconscious after a bomb exploded at him, so that didn't really count – but Lance was just the kind of guy who was impossible not to like. His jokes, although most of them were terribly inappropriate, have always helped to lighten up the mood (and God knew they all needed that sometimes), and the way his face brightened up every time Shiro complimented his shooting skills was truly endearing (and a tad embarrassing, too; Shiro still wasn't quite used to the idea of being idolized by a bunch of teenagers, who were still in elementary school when he was in officer training).

Lance's sense of humor even helped Shiro once when he had phantom pains in his prosthetic arm. It was just another sleepless night, when Shiro dreamt about his amputation. He didn't really remember anything from the procedure save for a purple light and an excruciating pain, but that was more than enough to send him bolting up in bed, panting and sweating and feeling as if someone was stabbing his right arm with a thousand burning needles.

He had stormed out of his room and bumped right into Lance, who had been on his way to the kitchen for some water. Shiro had tried to shake him off and told him to go back to sleep, but Lance was having none of it. He hadn't pressed Shiro to tell him what his dream had been about, but he had insisted to stay with him until the pain was gone.

Shiro had given up then, too exhausted and hurting to argue, and asked Lance to tell him a story that would distract him from the pain.

And so Lance told him how he had switched Keith's shampoo with food goo because of some dumb bet he had made with Pidge.

Within seconds, Shiro's stomach hurt so bad from laughing he completely forgot about the pain in his arm.

Shiro smiled now, remembering the shocked expression on Lance's face as his leader burst out laughing like a madman.

He giggled at the memory of the following morning, when Keith had stormed out of the shower, his hair a mess of green, sticky lumps, and chased Lance all the way to Blue's hangar, where the younger boy had been hiding with Pidge, both locked in the Blue Lion and protected from Keith's wrath by her particle barrier.

Shiro suddenly felt the urge to burst out laughing again, but he held it, feeling this wasn't exactly the time and place even though Lance would probably not wake up from the noise.

They were all such kids sometimes.

Well, not sometimes. They _were _kids, technically. Being paladins didn't change that.

They were kids and he was the adult, the leader. He was supposed to protect them.

Shiro's giddiness faded at once.

He had failed to protect Lance.

He knew it was silly. It wasn't his fault that building decided to collapse just as Lance was coming out of it.

But the fact Lance was there in the first place made Shiro's stomach churn with guilt. _He _was the one who was supposed to be on the front line, to risk his own life before risking his teammates'. He has believed in this principle ever since his first day as a fighter pilot. If he didn't, then what kind of leader was he, exactly?

Shiro sighed and plopped on the chair again, feeling drained all of a sudden. This long day, combined with his depressing thoughts, has apparently started to take its toll on him. But he couldn't go to asleep until his shift was over.

He looked at Lance again. The boy looked so peaceful, like he was having a deep, good night sleep. Shiro was almost jealous of him for a moment.

He wondered how Lance would be when he woke up. Head injuries were a complicated matter, and Coran couldn't guarantee that brain damage or memory loss were out of the question even after Lance was out of the pod. Shiro didn't blame the advisor; he knew he did everything he could. But as someone who had gone through a trauma that has changed him in so many ways – and he wasn't only talking about his white tuft of hair – he couldn't help but wonder whether Lance would be changed as well.

It wasn't the same kind of trauma, of course. He doubted Lance would even remember the injury itself, as he had lost conscious immediately. But Shiro didn't remember most of his year in captivity either, and he was still suffering from violent flashback that left him literally paralyzed with terror. He had lost part of himself there – even if he didn't know what that part was exactly, and he didn't want Lance to go through the same ordeal. The boy was already scarred enough from the blast on Aros and all the horrors he had witnessed during the war. He didn't deserve another scar.

That is, if he remembered anything at all.

Including his friends.

Or his family on Earth.

Shiro's eyes stung at the thought and he rubbed them violently, angry at himself. He couldn't give up on Lance like that. He had to believe he'd wake up and be fine.

However, being a leader meant he was ought to think about the other scenarios as well.

And he was just so _tired _from thinking about everything all the time.

His eyes still burned, even though the tears were gone. And his head suddenly felt extremely heavy, as if it weighed twice its size.

His eyelids were heavy too…

He slowly let his body sink into the chair…

-x-

"Shiro?"

Something cool and smooth rested on his cheek.

"Shiro, it's Allura. Your shift is over. You can go back to bed now."

Shiro blinked his eyes open, slowly, wincing against the cold light of the infirmary.

Oh, yes. He was at the infirmary.

He was supposed to keep watch of –

Shiro lurched forward with a gasp, nearly headbutting Allura who was leaning over him, her long hairs loose from their regular bun and tickling his face. "_Lance,_" he panted, scrambling to a stand. "How – I didn't – "

"Shiro, calm down," Allura said soothingly, though she didn't try to touch him again. "Lance is alright. I mean – " her lip twitched for a second – "There is no change in his condition. You did not do anything wrong."

Shiro tore his eyes off the heart monitor and stared at Allura with disbelief. "I fell asleep on the watch," he blurted out, feeling even more disoriented at her composure. "What if something happened?"

"Then Coran would have been alerted on his tablet," Allura said. "It has been a long day, Shiro. Please don't be so hard on yourself. I am actually glad you managed to get some rest."

Shiro sighed and passed a hand on across his face. The adrenaline from fussing over Lance was draining quickly and he felt the exhaustion creeping back into his bones, not to mention the sharp pain in his neck from sleeping in a sitting position for so long. "I still feel bad," he said quietly, "But, I guess it's a good thing nothing bad happened."

"Exactly." Allura stood behind him and placed a palm against his middle back. "Now go to bed. You still need a proper rest. Feel free to get up tomorrow whenever you like."

"You've been working hard too," Shiro said, planting his feet on the floor as he felt Allura's hand gently but persistently pushing him toward the doors. "I can stay if you want."

The princess chuckled. "I appreciate you looking out for your team, but I will be fine. Alteans do not need as much sleep as humans do. And besides, I won't be alone." She patted the front pocket of her night gown, and four tiny, hairy heads peeked out, yawning simultaneously.

Shiro couldn't help but smile. "Well, if the mice are keeping an eye on you, then I'm calm."

Allura smiled back, though there was some sadness to it. "I tried to make them take a bath, but they insisted Lance would do it. Apparently they have started this habit recently."

"I'm sure he'll be able to give them one soon," Shiro said, although the mice's drooping ears and whiskers broke his heart a little. "He's a strong kid. He'll get through it."

Chuchule gave a short squeak in response, and Allura giggled. "She says Space Dad is right."

"What, you guys two?" Shiro groaned without real heat. The mice chirped and burrowed in Allura's pocket again.

Allura rolled her eyes fondly. "Well, I shall bid you good night then. I hope morning brings us some good news."

"Yeah. Good night, Allura. I'm – I'm sorry again for falling asleep like that." He blushed despite himself.

"None of that. It was actually pretty adorable," her lips quirked into a smirk, "I am now regretting about not documenting it."

Shiro's face was on fire now. "_Allura!_"

"What?" she sat nonchalantly in the chair, her legs crossed. "Can't a princess have her fun?"

Shiro pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm too tired to have this argument now."

"Do you remember what I just said about you going to bed? Don't make me have the mice bite your feet until you do it."

"Okay, okay." Shiro raised his arms in surrender as the mice lifted their heads again and glared at him. "I'm going. For real now. Good night."

In his head he vowed to help Lance the next time he gave the mice a bath. This could be a nice chance to bond over something other than injuries or nightmares, and he had a feeling Lance would love the idea as well.

-x-

"Stop that," Allura scowled, though the edges of her mouth trembled in an attempt not to laugh. "It is highly inappropriate to perform tricks on someone's sickbed."

The mice, who were busy forming a pyramid on Lance's blanket, froze mid-air and looked at her beggingly.

Allura sighed. "Fine. You can do one more trick, but then you have to stop the show."

Chulatt, who has just finished balancing himself at the top of the pyramid, chirped excitedly and jumped high in the air, doing two flip-flops before landing on the bed. Chuchule and Plachu followed through, and then Platt, who was at the base of the pyramid, stood on one foot and span three times in his place before falling backwards and sprawling on the bed with an idle expression.

Allura clapped. "Bravo! That was very impressive. But now you have to settle down until the end of our shift."

The four mice drooped in their places in disappointment and went to the part of the blanket that covered Lance's stomach, where they huddled together and closed their eyes, letting out a small, collective sigh.

The sight stung Allura's heart. "I know. I miss him too," she said quietly, thinking how Lance would have enjoyed the little show the mice have just put up. She had recently learned he had a way with animals – not only with the mice but also with Kaltenacker, the cow the paladins had brought from the space mall for reasons she still couldn't quite understand – and that fact warmed her heart and made her want to know more about these hidden sides in his personality.

She was sure of one thing though – Lance has come a long way from the easygoing, cocky, flirty teen she met the day she woke up from her cryosleep.

They have been only traveling through space for a few phoebs, but he has already grown up so much, and Allura was delighted to discover a clever, talented, compassionate young man, whose heart was exactly at the right place. She even learned to take his tireless flirting attempts with humor rather than annoyance, as she knew it was all in good spirit (and besides, she could always grab his arm and bend it backwards to the point of almost-breaking if he got on her nerves; he was an excellent sniper, but his combat instincts were rather lacking).

Lance was there for her in harder moments, too. After all, Coran and her were thrown into this chaotic, Galra-enslaved universe as abruptly as the other paladins. Yes, she was the Princess of Altea, but she'd barely managed to learn anything about the duties of a princess before her family and entire kingdom were taken away from her, and even the memory of her father – the only guidance she had other than Coran – was gone now, the Al containing his consciousness erased after the corruption of Sendak's crystal forced them to choose between destroying it or the entire castle.

She tried to keep her head high as she stepped in as the leader of the free universe, but frankly – and she wouldn't admit it to anyone, not even Coran – half of the time she had no idea what she was doing, and the other half she was terrified of the consequences of her actions, even when she was one hundred percent sure they were essential for saving the universe.

But if there was one person who always stood by her side, always bothered to remind her that she could do this and they all believed in her, it was Lance. They all supported and followed her unconditionally – a fact that still made her both proud and regretful, because none of them has asked to be dragged into this terrible war – somehow Lance was the only one who was able to lift her spirit and boost up her confidence with merely a smile and a couple of comforting words, as if he had a mysterious way to know the right thing to say every time.

Well, maybe not so mysterious. After all, he was chosen by the Blue Lion. Much like the Yellow Lion, Blue was the lion of positivity and compassion, and always took a pilot who put the needs of others above his own. But most of all, she wanted her pilot to be the kind of person whose loyalty would not falter even when facing the hardest and cruelest tests; who would be willing to be one of Voltron's legs, the constant source of support they all needed, even if that meant stepping down to let other people shine; who'd do anything for the wellbeing of his teammates and the success of their mission at the cost of sacrificing his own position and pride.

Or sacrificing his life, as Lance almost did more than once, to Allura's dismay.

It suddenly dawned on her that she never got to tell him _what _were exactly the traits of the Blue Paladin. She had tried to do so on their first day at the castle, when she explained about the lions and assigned each of them his lion, but when she got to Blue, Lance cut her off with one of his humorous remarks and she was too annoyed to repeat the explanation.

Allura felt a bitter taste in her mouth as she remembered it. Lance was no longer the immature boy from that day. With his kindness and bravery, he'd justly earned his place on the team and the title of the Blue Paladin. He deserved to know these things.

She would be sure to tell him when he woke up.

If only she could make it happen sooner than later.

Allura's hand twitched and she held it close to her chest, scared all of a sudden. She wanted to help Lance so, so much. Seeing him lying before her, unmoving and unresponsive, broke her heart. She couldn't just leave him like that, doing nothing – not when he went out of his way to help her so many times in the past.

If only she could somehow reach out to his quintessence and arouse it, coax it back to life.

She knew it was possible. She had channeled quintessence before, on the Balmera, connecting to its core and passing it some of her own quintessence to save it from the brink of death. As all the living things in the universe, humans were made of quintessence, too; there was no reason she couldn't connect to Lance's quintessence the same way.

But…

She didn't know if she was strong enough.

She was only beginning to understand the art of quintessence channeling, to master control over her powers. She had still so much to learn, so much training to do. And there was no way she was going to use Lance's quintessence for training, because if she failed, if she made one, small mistake, she could…

Allura swallowed, heart pounding under her palm.

She couldn't risk hurting Lance.

She would never forgive herself if she did.

_You will never hurt my paladin._

Allura gasped, heart nearly bursting out of her chest. The mice raised their heads at once, ears stretched upwards and eyes glistening.

The sudden presence in her mind was so overwhelming she nearly fell off the chair. But somehow, Allura knew who it was before she even uttered it out loud.

"Blue?" she whispered.

_My paladin needs help. Please, help him._

"Me?" Allura looked at the sleeping Lance, then lowered her gaze timidly to her own lap. "But… I don't know how."

_Of course you do. I have seen you do it in the past._

"Yes, but…" Allura hugged herself with both arms, feeling chilly all of a sudden. "I have never done this with human quintessence before. Trust me, there is nothing in the world I want more right now than to help Lance, but…" she bit her lip. "I'm sorry, but I cannot take that risk. Not when Lance's life is on the line."

_My paladin is strong. You are strong. You can save him._

Allura shook her head sorrowfully.

_Blue will help._

Allura's eyes widened. "You… but how…?"

_I trust you. Just like you need to trust me. We can do this together, through the bond._

Allura looked again at Lance, then at the mice. They all gave her a decisive nod.

She released a long breath. "Alright. I… I trust you, Blue. Let's do this."

_For paladin._

"For Lance," Allura repeated, with more confidence than before. She straightened in the chair, then leaned forward and rested her hand on Lance's forehead, not quite sure why she did that but at the same time knowing it was the right thing to do.

She closed her eyes, allowing Blue's quintessence to fill her body and mind.

Waves of cool energy started to flow through her, but she did not waver. Their presence was comforting, made her feel safe and vibrant and strong.

Through closed eyelids she saw a glow of blue light, a tiny flicker at first, but then it grew and she could feel it wrapping around her hand and Lance's head, connecting the two of them with a vibrating thread of energy. She felt Blue's quintessence slowly leaving the rest of her body and concentrating at this spot, at the place where her palm met Lance's forehead, and with a final thrust it left her hand as well and she snatched it back instinctively, eyes flying open as she drooped back in the chair, panting, knees shaking despite being seated. Her head felt lighter, and she wasn't sure whether it was Blue's presence who left her mind or if she was simply dizzy from channeling it.

Once she managed to get her breath in order, she turned to Lance, who seemed the same as before, eyes shut tightly and face lax, any trace of blue aura gone.

Allura's heart sank.

Did…

Did it work?

Or was it all in vain?

A weak moan was heard all of a sudden and Allura jumped, eyes darting in all directions before she realized the sound was coming from the bed.

Lance moaned again, a bit louder this time.

The mice got off his stomach and ran to gather around his head, not touching but watching him intently. Allura quickly grabbed his hand and squeezed it, nearly screaming when she felt his fingers curl slightly, perhaps in an attempt to squeeze back.

"Lance," she said, her voice thick. "_Lance._"

Lance's eyes twitched and he ever so slowly opened them, first into a silver, and then a bit wider, and they were tired and pale but they were _his _eyes, and they stared right at Allura in exhaustion and confusion and it was the most beautiful sight she has ever seen.

"'llura?" he murmured, his raspy voice like music to her ears.

Allura grinned and squeezed his hand a bit tighter. "Hello, Lance."

"Am I dead?" he asked, and Allura laughed wetly, her own eyes burning.

"No, but you tried very hard to do so. We are all so glad you didn't succeed."

Lance wrinkled his forehead. "Did you bring me back to life?"

"It was the Blue Lion, actually," Allura said. "I only helped."

Lance smiled sleepily. "My two beautiful, badass girls," he said, and in that moment Allura knew there was nothing wrong with his head anymore.

He was back.

Her team, her family, was whole again.


End file.
